The Armenian holds the same position among the bipeds of the East as the buffalo among the quadrupeds. He bears his load, and performs his task with docility, without appearing conscious that he can be capable of any thing beyond this; and, even the Sarafs, or Bankers to the Pashas, a class of men in whom I expected to encounter, at least occasionally, an individual of general acquirements and information, as far as my own experience went, scarcely formed an exception to the rule. I knew many among them who were exceedingly amiable, and possessed of great shrewdness, but it was all professional subtlety; it extended not beyond the objects on which their personal interests were hinged. Not one in a score can speak five words of any European language, or be induced to exhibit the slightest wish to acquire one. In a word, I should say that the Armenians, as a nation, were worthy, well-meaning, and useful, but extremely uninteresting members of society; possessing neither the energy of the Greek, nor the strength of character so conspicuous in the Osmanli—A money-making, money-loving people, having a proper regard for the “purple and fine linen” of the world; and quite satisfied to bear the double yoke of the Sultan and the Priesthood. CHAPTER XXVII. Season-Changes at Constantinople—Twilight—The Palace Garden—Mariaritza, the Athenian—A Love-tale by Moonlight—The Greek Girl’s Song—The Palace of Beglierbey—Interior Decorations—The Bath—The Terraces—The Lake of the Swans—The Air Bath—The Emperor’s Vase—The Gilded Kiosk—A Disappointment. We had landed at Constantinople amid the snows of winter: we had danced through the Carnival at the Palaces of Pera: seen the early primroses spring in the Valley of the Sweet Waters, and the first violets blossom among the tombs in the Cemetery of Eyoub. We had hailed the brightening summer as it wrote its approach with flowery fingers amid the bursting roses of the terrace-gardens, whispered its gentle promises in the low murmuring breezes which curled lovingly the clear ripple of the Bosphorus, and made mystic music among the leafy plane-trees. We had glided over that ripple by moonlight in a fairy-bark, whose golden glitter flashed back the sweet light that touched it, and whose broad-bladed oars flung the light spray from them at every stroke, like mimic stars.